


Rusty, Dusty Blue (on hiatus)

by Modvinnie



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Gender Role Reversal, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modvinnie/pseuds/Modvinnie
Summary: A retelling of Timeless, beginning with the first episode, where Lucy and Wyatt have swapped roles and identities. How will the tale unfold when Lucy is the soldier and Wyatt the historian?Wyatt Logan just found out that his tenure meeting has been cancelled. Before going home, he decides to stop at his favorite roadside joint for some comfort food. A woman in a rusty, dusty blue pick-up truck grabs his attention. Will he ever see her again? Spoiler alert - it's sooner than he thinks. (Wyatt POV)******Update 2018: Officially on hiatus.





	1. Tacos and Tailgates

**Author's Note:**

> Wyatt and Lucy are two of my favorite TV characters because of their courage. I like Wyatt's grit and strength, I love Lucy's sweetness and smarts. It got me thinking - what if their roles were reversed? 
> 
> In this story, Wyatt is the professor/historian, and Lucy the rough and tumble soldier. It's a bit of a genderswap/role reversal tale that I thought would be fun. These characters have a lot in common to start with - what would it be like if they switched roles? How it would change who they are and how the story plays out?
> 
> I don't know yet where this is going but if I continue, it will be planned Lyatt and there may be mature content. Ratings will be updated as appropriate.
> 
> Timeframe: Starting with episode 1, after Wyatt (Lucy in the show) loses his tenure meeting and decides to stop and have lunch before heading home for the night. A pre-destined meeting, if you will.

The first time I saw her was through the windshield of a rusty, dusty blue pick-up truck. The windows were down, some country song blaring from the speakers, and her long dark hair was flying all around her head. She crossed two lanes of oncoming traffic, up and over the barrier, to get into the parking lot of the taco joint I had stopped to eat lunch at. By the time the oncoming cars honked their horns at her, she had her truck backed up into a nonexistent parking spot in front of the building and was climbing out. There was a “Remember the Alamo” sticker on her tailgate.

Her door opened, and all five foot nothing of her hopped out on strong, tan legs. She was barefoot and wearing a light yellow sundress. With one hand, she slipped her right foot into a worn boot, shut the door with her hip, and then put her other boot on. She didn’t bother rolling her windows up or locking the doors, and it appeared that she didn’t even have the keys on her. 

I looked on the opposite side of the lot to my shiny electric model car, neatly tucked between the lines of two parking spaces. The car gave a nice little chirp when I had locked the doors, and the inside still had that new car smell, even though I had had it for about six months. A pile of textbooks were neatly stacked in a crate on the floor in the back, ready to be returned to the university. I frowned at that thought. My own shoes were leather, clean, and neatly tied. A study in contrast, indeed. 

The woman was opening the screen door of the joint when I looked back her way, and I was startled to see a flash of bright blue eyes as she pushed her sunglasses into her hair. The dirty truck, ballsy driving habits, and worn-in dirty boots cut a wild picture; the sundress and smile she wore painted her sweet. I had never been witness to such a walking contradiction. 

I wiped salsa off my fingers and searched through my messenger bag for my latest field journal. Unwrapping the soft leather, I turned to a clean page, dated it, and began to sketch her. I knew I’d want to remember this character the next time I did research on how behaviors could impact history. Now that my tenure was out of reach, independent research was as good as I was going to get. It had to be a way back into the university.

I had just finished the curve of her calves, and was lingering a bit when a shadow darkened the page. 

“What are you working on, professor?” a smoky, southern voice asked from behind me. 

Startled, I turned, and there she was, a large jar of iced tea in one hand, a white paper to-go bag in the other. She smiled, took a sip, and waited.

It took admittedly longer than I would have liked for me to remember how to used my words. All my words. Speak. To speak. I had a large vocabulary. Usually. But the only thing that came out of my mouth was a cough and a “Well…”

“You forgot the flowers,” she said. 

I furrowed my brow. “What?”

“The flowers. On the edge of my dress. You missed them.”

My eyes moved down her body to her tan thighs, where she was pulling the dress away from her skin to let the light shine through the lacy flower pattern. The dress stopped right above her knees. I noticed she had a pretty bad cut on her right leg; the surrounding flesh was black and blue. 

“What happened there? Are you alright?” I asked, hoping I didn’t seem like a complete idiot at this point while also pretending that I didn’t like the look of her legs very much.

She looked down, seeming to forget that she was banged up. “Oh, that? Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch - all part of the job.”

I could work with where this conversation was going. “What is it that you do?” I inquired, smiling politely. 

A wicked smile stretched across her face as she leaned in close over the bench. She placed one hand on my shoulder, looked me dead in the eyes, and in the sweetest voice I’d ever heard, accent thick, whispered, “I’d love to tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” without even blinking. She held my shocked gaze for a moment before giving up the facade, throwing her head back and laughing a full belly laugh at my expression. I felt my neck flush. 

“You know, that wasn’t very nice,” I mumbled, my own smile stretching across my face without my permission. She had an intensity about her I was having a hard time ignoring, and she really was an excellent flirt.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m just teasing you. I can be nice.” She paused. “When I want to be.”

With that, she pulled her sunglasses out of her hair and put them back on, then walked around the picnic table, back toward her truck. Her gait was powerful and purposeful, like she was used to being in charge and keenly aware of her surroundings. She kept her boots on this time as she hopped up and in, her lunch tossed on the passenger seat beside her. 

She yelled out the window to me, “Don’t forget the flowers!” before pulling out onto the highway headed away from town. I watched her go until her truck faded in the distance, wondering if I’d ever see her again. 

As it turns out, I didn’t have to wait very long at all.


	2. The Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Wyatt finds himself a little lost when a Homeland Security agent shows up at his door. His life is about to change in more ways than one. And guess who he is about to meet...again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, we are still following the Timeless episode 1 timeline, setting the stage a bit for deviations to come. Wyatt (Lucy) is talking to his brother (Adam=Amy) when he's introduced to Homeland Security for the first time. True to the original story still.

**Chapter 2**

“So tell me more about your tenure meeting being cancelled,” my brother Adam questioned over a swig of beer. “Or, in other words, who do I have to beat up?”

I sighed and with a sad smile, replied, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not sure it’d do any good. They were pretty hush hush about the whole thing.”

“Even being mom’s kid, they still don’t give a damn?”

“Pretty much,” I said, emptying my coffee cup.

“Well,” he hesitated, “I know you loved teaching, Wyatt, but history wasn’t your passion. It was moms. So now, maybe you get a free pass? A chance to find what will make you happy?”

“You mean because mom is too sick to tell me otherwise,” I said, grumpily and not a little sad.

Adam looked defeated, face weathered with worry. “She may not get better, and I don’t know what will happen to you if she doesn’t,” he quietly said. “I’m worried.”

I preferred not to think of it myself, to be honest. Figured I’d cross that bridge when I got there, one problem at a time. I reached over to Adam, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Aren’t I supposed to be the older brother worried about the younger one? You’re stepping on my toes here.”

Adam laughed, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, the same way they had since we were kids. “Well, yeah,” he said. “Speaking of, want to help me write a paper?”

I felt my mouth draw in a hard, firm line. His tone was suspicious. “When’s it due?”

He grinned a shit-eating grin and said, “Tomorrow.”

I took a deep breath, ready to scold him. “Adam…” I said in warning. The doorbell interrupted my lecture. I’d have to save it for later - another to be added to the very long list.

“Who the hell could that be at this time of night?” Adam voiced. I tensed, looking at the clock - he was right, it was almost ten.

“Hang on, let me answer the door,” I said, rushing to catch him.

“What? Come on, you know you’re too nice to fight off an intruder,” he said while trying to push me out of the way.

“Shut up, man.” I hip checked him and kept him away with the straight of my arm before pulling the door open. Luckily, I had a few inches on him and he didn’t fight it too hard. I was tall, but thin, a runner, not a wrestler.

“Sir, are you Wyatt Logan?” questioned an older gentleman from our front porch. He wore sunglasses - an odd choice considering the hour - and a sharp black suit. Adam and I stopped wrestling each other to look at him.

“I’m Agent Gallo from Homeland Security,” he continued. “We need you to come with us.”

“Dude!” Adam exclaimed. “What the hell did you do this time?”

“Shut up, I didn’t do anything,” I mumbled to Adam. “What is it that you want? And I want to see some identification,” I said to Agent Gallo using my best professor voice.

The terminator didn’t even flinch. “I am not authorized to give you that information,” he said, robotically, before flashing a badge and turning on his heel. “Follow me. Now. This is a critical and time sensitive matter.”

I exchanged looks with Adam. “Stay with mom, I’ll call you,” I said. There was the worried face again. I grabbed my jacket and messenger bag from the hook on the wall and followed Agent Gallo to his car. “And finish that paper!” I yelled behind me.

“Yes, dad,” he mumbled, but followed up with a hurried “Be careful!” I turned and gave him a wink, not wanting him to worry, though I was a bit concerned about this turn of events myself. I climbed in the backseat of a dark SUV, wondering when exactly my life became a movie, and watched Adam fade from view as we drove away.

“Where are we going?” I asked Gallo, who was sitting across from me on his phone. Without looking up, he replied, “You’ll find out when we get there. Top secret.”

“Top secret?” I said. “I don’t have that kind of security clearance,” I paused, thought it through. “I have zero security clearance.”

“You do now,” he said, handing me a name badge from his suit pocket. My photo and name were on it, and nothing else.

“How did you get my photo?” I asked, dumbstruck.

“We have many photos of you, Mr. Logan,” was all Gallo replied. I debated throwing a quick punch and rolling myself out of the moving vehicle, but if they had many photos of me, it probably wouldn’t be too hard to track me down again. That thought sobered me up.

“Just answer one question for me, please,” I quietly said, leaning closer to the agent. “My family - my brother and mother - are they in any danger?”

He looked up from his phone and looked me dead in the eye. “As long as we have your cooperation, then no. Your family will be safe.”

Floored, I sat back against the seat. Gallo blinked once, put his phone away, and broke eye contact to look out the window. Unsure of what to do, or what risk would come to my family if I made a mistake, I opted to do the same. Eventually, the streetlights faded and I found myself drifting while the blackness sped by.

###

Seemingly out of nowhere - I was deeper in my thoughts than I realized - the SUV took a right turn and 30 seconds later we were stopped in a parking lot outside of a large warehouse. There were flashing lights and it was still pretty dark. Gallo hopped out and held the door open for me. “Come with me,” he said before briskly walking toward a large metal door.

There were several guards standing by though they didn’t look threatening. Merely rent-a-cop mall security types. It was all the other white guys in suits that had me worried. Nothing good ever came from that. I quickly looked around, trying to get my bearings before walking into an unknown warehouse, but it was too dark.

Gallo entered the building then led me down a long and surprisingly modern hallway. The warehouse had been transformed on the inside to be a sort of office building/lab. It reminded me of the start-ups that came out of campus, the ones filled with young and brilliant geniuses blowing other people’s millions on cool-but-unnecessary ideas and marketing schemes.

Gallo opened a door to a conference room, allowed me to walk inside, then quickly spun on his heel. “You know, I just need to call -” he slammed the door in my face. “Cool,” I muttered.

I waited a few minutes, but no answer came. I turned, intending to look for another door, when I realized that I wasn’t alone.

Familiar boots were propped up on the conference table, an edge of yellow lace flowing over the side. She had her arms crossed and her eyes closed, and though she didn’t glow under these fluorescent lights like she did in the sun, I recognized her all the same. The woman from earlier today was sitting in front of me, seemingly unworried that she was in a strange building with no further instruction.

Well, if she wasn’t scared, then I shouldn’t be. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I settled into a chair, quietly, holding my messenger bag in my lap. Looking over again at the woman, I noticed she hadn’t moved and her breathing was even.

Quietly, while leaning forward in my chair, I whispered, “Are you asleep?”

“No, sir,” her response was immediate. I forgot how good her smoky voice sounded, which was amplified by this small room. Startled, I sat back in my chair fully. “Oh, ok, good,” was all I could reply. A few moments passed.

“Do you know why we’re here?” I asked. Patience wasn’t my strong suit.

“No idea, sir,” she said again. I remembered her professor comment from earlier in the day; seemed she like to tease people. It was one thing to be called sir by students while I was teaching; outside of work, I simply preferred Wyatt. I wasn’t my father, after all.

I was irritable - though it wasn’t her fault - and nervous about where I was and what I was doing. With more tension in my tone than I meant to have, I responded. “You know, we’re pretty much the same age, so you don’t have to keep calling me sir.”

She cracked open one eye and curled her lips up into a half smirk. Then she recognized me and opened both eyes, her smile full-blown, her cheeks touching her eyes. She had incredibly cute dimples when she smiled like that. For a moment, I forgot all about the strange happenings of tonight.

The door opening to my right had us both suddenly on our feet. I noticed that she had much faster reflexes than I did, and also much better posture.

Another suit walked in, a bronze-skinned woman with salt and pepper hair. She looked no-nonsense and I had immediate respect for her.

“Wyatt Logan? Agent Denise Christopher, Homeland Security,” she said, reaching for my hand to shake. I stuck my hand out, surprised. “You have a hell of a reputation. History, anthropology - you’re world class.”

I would never get used to this. “My mother is world class, Agent Christopher. I’m just a teacher,” I said.

“I’ve read all of her books. I’m sorry to hear that she’s sick,” Christopher said with seeming sincerity. My eyes widened. How much did these people know about me?

Christopher moved to the woman on the other side of the table before I could ask.

“Master Sergeant Lucy Preston, Delta Force?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy replied. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head. Try as I might not to have any sexist thoughts - after all, I was raised by a single woman and had been witness to many shitty moments - I was pretty floored by a female Delta Force officer. I guess that explained the gnarly bruises. Remembering our conversation from the day before, I realized she probably _could_ actually kill me. I looked Lucy up and down, reconsidering the sundress. More wild than sweet after all.

“Boy, speaking of reputations,” Christopher said. Lucy’s eyes tightened just barely at the mention but Christopher kept going. “We are on the clock, people. Follow me, but hold onto your asses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone out there watch Scorpion? I couldn't resist a little cross-over (well...two, technically - anyone catch that terminator reference or am I showing my age?) 
> 
> For future chapters, I will most likely switch things up and not stay true to the Timeless timeline/turn of events that have happened up to this point. I don't want to rewrite every single Timeless episode with a role swap (I think that'd be boring!). Instead, I hope to put a few spins in as Lucy and Wyatt get to know each other a little better. Stay tuned for the next chapter, as things are about to change. Comments are always welcome! It's been awhile since I dove back into fic writing...Lucy's pick-up truck isn't the only thing that's rusty around here! haha. Thanks, y'all!


	3. Peaches & Whiskey & Bellbottom Jeans, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wyatt and Lucy are introduced to time travel and team bonding, all in the same day. 
> 
> Warnings: a few moments of coarse language, mentions of drinking and motion sickness.

**Chapter 3**

“Wyatt, Sergeant Preston, this is Rufus Carlin,” Agent Christopher said, extending her hand toward a dark-skinned man with headphones on sitting behind a control table. She tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped in his chair. While removing his headphones, he stood, a startled expression on his face. “He’s the lead engineer and, well, designer,” she paused and gave both Lucy and I a hard look, “of the time machine.”

My eyebrows shot into my hairline. Next to me, Lucy barked out a laugh. Christopher turned her attention toward her, and Lucy swallowed it down.

“Apologies, ma’am,” she said, her tone level. She paused, considered, and went for it. “But did you just say time machine?”

“Oh, good, you heard that, too,” I added. “Rufus, was it?” I said, while sticking my hand out. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah, uh, you, too,” he said. His voice cracked a bit at first, like he hadn’t used it in a few hours. Lucy nodded her head in greeting. Rufus gave a small wave and hesitant smile.

“As I was saying, Rufus has been here at Mason Industries for a long time. He’ll be your pilot,” Christopher continued.

“Pilot? Pilot of what?” I asked, trying to control my voice. I didn’t like tight spaces, and most flying contraptions were tight by nature.

“We’ll brief you in the conference room,” Christopher said, spinning on her heel. Lucy followed immediately, leaving Rufus and I standing there looking at each other. He eyed me up and down, shrugged, and started walking. I followed his lead, hoping I could trust the man and whatever craziness he was about to drag me into.

***

“Let me get this straight,” I said, tapping the table in front of me with my index finger, trying to nail my point home. “A former NSA agent stole a time machine and took it back to 1969, to do God only knows what. We,” I pointed around the table to Rufus and Lucy, “are going to chase him in _another_ time machine and make sure that he doesn’t step on a butterfly and change the present day as we know it. Did I get that right?”  

“That about sums it up, yeah,” Rufus replied at the same time Christopher responded with a curt “Yes.”

Across the table from me, Lucy rubbed her hands together. “When do we leave?” 

“30 minutes,” Agent Christopher answered.

“Whoa, wait just a minute,” I said. “You’re ok with this? Just like that?

Lucy shrugged. “Orders, sir.” Rufus tilted his head at that.

“What if we don’t go?” I asked, warily.

“You don’t want to know,” Rufus mumbled.

“I suggest you follow Sergeant Preston’s lead, Wyatt,” Christopher said, firmly but gently. “We need you on this mission to preserve historical accuracy. Lucy will make sure that both you and Rufus stay safe at all times.”

“Wait, what?” Rufus said, swiveling in his chair to face Lucy. She raised an eyebrow at him. “ _You’re_ Delta Force? Not him?”

I could practically hear her teeth grinding from across the table before she put a sweet smile on her face. “You got a problem with it, sugar?” she asked, all teeth and glittering eyes. _Black widow_ flashed in my mind.

Rufus’s adam’s apple bobbed as he visibly shrunk back in his chair. It took him a few seconds before he answered with a quiet, “Sorry. I’m sorry. No, it’s not a problem. Not a problem at all. Looking forward to it, yeah?” He smiled nervously before looking at me and nodding vigorously.

Lucy smirked, satisfied. Agent Christopher watched the interaction with a look of both satisfaction and annoyance. I wondered how often she was confused for a secretary instead of the person in charge. She looked to me and I cringed.

“Rufus, your mission is simple: pilot the time machine and get Lucy, Wyatt, and yourself safely from point A to B,” Christopher said. He nodded; he must have heard the drill before.

“Wyatt, you are to be our expert in preserving historical accuracy - from mannerisms to dress, common speech patterns to identifying historical figures of importance, you help the team fit in with the year you’re in. Lucy, you stop Garcia Flynn and keep your team safe at all costs, especially Rufus. He’s our only pilot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy responded. I paled.

“Dressing rooms are down the hall. Get yourselves ready, we leave in 20 minutes.” Lucy followed Christopher out of the room but I stayed frozen to my seat.

At the door, Rufus turned. “Hey, man, it’ll be ok,” he said. I willed myself to stand and walk to the door. Rufus put his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed. “Aren’t you pumped about meeting famous people from history? Would think this was in your wheelhouse.”

“Well...yeah. The guinea pig part though? Not so much,” I said.

He simply nodded. “I don’t know if it’ll reassure you, but I built the time machine, and it’s perfectly safe. Trust me. I’m brilliant,” he said with such candor that I couldn’t help but laugh. Satisfied, Rufus led us to the changing rooms and back to the past.

***

 _I’m dying. I’m going to die. We’ve not even gone through time yet, and I’m going to die because I can’t breathe and I definitely can’t figure out how to buckle my seatbelt._ The buckles banged against my seat and echoed loudly in the tight space as I fumbled with them for the third time.

“Hey, you need some help there, sir?” Lucy asked from across the tight aisle. I was trying to keep my knees from clacking against hers while I struggled. Thank God she wasn’t taller. _Rufus could have accounted for a little more room in the machine while he was building it,_ I grumpily thought.

When I didn’t respond, Lucy undid her seatbelt and leaned in close. She smelled like peaches and whiskey. Her hair brushed against my leg as she bent to grab the fastener for my seatbelt and I stopped trying to breath altogether. Her hands expertly started hooking odds and ends together over my shoulders and chest. I stiffened when she reached for my lap. She noticed.

“So, do you like rock and roll music?” Lucky asked nonchalantly, interrupting my oncoming anxiety attack. “Personally, I’m pretty pumped about hearing the theme song from the Wonder Years live.”

She looked up at me from under her eyelashes and winked. And there was my inhale, a cough to cover up a nervous giggle. I was a grown man for fuck’s sake, and grown men _do not_ giggle. At least not in front of Delta Force soldiers.

Luckily, Rufus chose then to save me. “Man, I loved the Wonder Years. Winnie Cooper. Shoulda picked Paul,” he said the last part seemingly to himself. Lucy chuckled.

“First love, I take it?” she lightly asked as she snapped the final buckle into place. Before I could register it, she was back in her seat and her own seatbelt was halfway fastened.

Rufus whistled. “I am a sucker for a pretty mathematician.” He was flicking switches on the dashboard in front of him as he spoke; the machine hummed quietly around us. I took a deep breath and counted to ten before I exhaled.

“Yeah? Then why haven’t you asked Jiya out yet?” Lucy quipped. Her tone was teasing and friendly, but reserved, like she was testing the waters.

Rufus spun around in his chair, eyes wide. “What? How did you...I mean,” he took a calming breath, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lucy smiled. “She’s smart, pretty. Checks two of your boxes. Besides, you seem like a nice guy. I bet she’ll say yes.”

Rufus studied Lucy like he didn’t know what to make of her. She held Rufus’s gaze, her own eyes never anything but friendly. My head felt like a ping pong ball bouncing back and forth between them, waiting for each one to make a move. I was going to definitely pass out.

“How about this,” I interrupted their weird moment, “If we don’t die or permanently get stuck in 1969, Rufus asks Jiya out when we get back. If we do die, Lucy promises not to rib Rufus about it.”

Rufus turned toward me, a confused look on his face. “But if we-” Lucy interrupted with a solid chuckle. “If we die, I promise not to rib Rufus about it.” She held up her right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“Besides,” I said, “I agree with Lucy. Jiya will definitely say yes. I say go for it, man.” I hoped I looked sincere and reassuring. I felt anything but confident.

Rufus shook his head at us before turning back toward the dashboard. Quietly, he mumbled, “Guess I better keep us alive then. Here goes nothing.”

Lucy and I shared a smile across the aisle. I realized that in a span of less than five minutes, she distracted and comforted both Rufus and I, and made us seem on our way to being an actual team. I wondered briefly if it was her military training or simply her personality.

It was my last thought before my world went simultaneously black and upside down as we were thrown 50 years in the past. 

***

I was rigid in my chair, eyes firmly closed. I breathed in and out slowly in an effort to keep my head from spinning off my shoulders and the tacos I ate for lunch from making a repeat visit. _Note to self: no Mexican food on time travel day._ After a minute or two, I worked up the courage to open my eyes.

The time machine was still intact. I was facing Rufus, my head turned to the side. He was pinching the bridge of his nose but otherwise seemed fine. I dared to move my gaze toward Lucy and the world didn’t shift with it. That was a good sign.

Lucy, however, was not in a good way. Her head was slumped against her chest and she looked to be completely passed out. Her harness was the only thing keeping her in her chair.

“Rufus,” I said, a little strangled. “Rufus, something’s wrong with Lucy.” I fiddled with the buckles at my chest; they were proving easier to get out of than in. Without a stitch of grace, I sloppily slunk out of my chair and down to my knees in front of Lucy. Which was no easy feat, considering I was wearing the _tightest_ pair of flared jeans I had ever encountered. Rufus was behind me in an instant. I reached up for Lucy’s neck, lifting her head gently, searching for a pulse or an apparent injury.

She groaned and both Rufus and I jumped. I exhaled, hard. She was still breathing, thank God.

“Lucy? Sergeant Preston? Can you hear me?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” she grumbled.

“Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” Rufus asked, his tone nearing panic. She opened her eyes at his tone, smiled, then quickly closed her eyes again.

“Rufus,” she gargled out, “Can you turn the time machine off? Its still spinning.”

“We’re stopped, Lucy,” I said, gently.

“Oh, good. Then I’m spinning. Give me a second.”

I let my hands drop from her neck. She was supporting her head on her own, and reaching for the fasteners on her harness. Suddenly, and with startling force, Lucy was out of her seat and pushing open the time machine door. Rufus and I watched her disappear from view before the sounds of her retching filled the cabin.

“Ah,” Rufus said, like that explained everything. He looked at me. “You feeling ok? Queasy at all?”

“Just a little when we first...landed? But no, I’m ok. Is that a common reaction?”

“Yeah, we just called it time sickness. Figure it could happen. Sort of like motion sickness, except, you know. Tenfold.” He pulled a small sticker off from behind his ear. “I wear these, it helps. I should have offered patches to you guys, I’m sorry. Got caught up in the...” he trailed off as he waved his hands around his head.

“No worries, we will try next time,” I said, mentally adding _if there is a next time._ “Besides, I have a feeling that-” I pointed to the door “-may have more to do with Lucy’s choice of liquid lunch than time travel itself.” Rufus cringed.

“I heard that, Professor,” a voice called from outside. I jumped a little where I was standing. Rufus’s snicker became a full chuckle. We moved towards the door as Lucy poked her head up into the time machine. “I’m surprised those tacos didn’t make a guest appearance,” she said.

I shrugged. “They almost did.”

She laughed. “Yeah, note to self - no whiskey on time travel days.”

“Probably not a bad rule to follow,” Rufus said. “Maybe we have whiskey and tacos _after_ the missions are over.”

“Does Jiya like whiskey and tacos?” Lucy asked with impressive snark for someone who just heaved up their lunch. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Rufus just shook his head. “Is this going to be a thing now?” he asked, incredulously.

“Well hey, I tease all of my friends,” she said. The sincere smile on her face and the gentle mirth in her eyes made it an undoubtable truth. Sure enough, Rufus smiled back, warmly. And just like that, the three of us became not only a time traveling team, but friends, too.

“Well, come on then,” I said, hopping down from the time machine. “Woodstock awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! If you're reading this, I want to say thank you for sticking with me! I apologize for not being able to have a tried and true update schedule. I'm not a very good outline writer - inspiration comes and goes of its own free will around these parts. So far I am planning on continuing this throughout the summer. Also, are crackfics still a thing? Because I think that's what this is turning into a bit. I make no apologies for my silliness. haha. Appreciate the kudos and comments!


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